Sinful Ever After (Sinful Serenade Book 5) - Crystal Kaswell Page 0,1

same space together.

And I'm really exhausted.

My hands go to the zipper of my hoodie. I have a surprise for him, but I'm terrified to reveal it. This is serious, forever, the next level of commitment.

It's been a year, but we haven't talked much about forever. A while back, he asked about getting married. I said I wanted to wait until I was done with my first year of medical school, and that was it. We haven't talked about anything since.

We haven't even discussed getting a place together. I stay with my parents during the week—they live twenty minutes from campus—and with Miles on the weekends. His place is nearly two hours from school, depending on the traffic.

The zipper is cool against my skin. I pull it down an inch, but I can't will myself to pull it down any more.

Soon. I need to do it the first chance I get. Before the sex. I don't want him getting derailed when we finally get out of our clothes.

It's been way too long.

Miles changes lanes and exits the freeway. He pulls onto a familiar street. We've been here before. Together.

Oh.

There's a cemetery on our left—the cemetery where his uncle is buried.

It's a strange choice for a celebration, but it's perfect.

Miles parks and helps me out of the car. He slides one arm around my waist.

His eyes go to the ground. Is he actually bashful? I'm not sure I've ever seen him bashful before.

"You don't have to explain," I say.

"Sure you don't want a celebration with champagne on the beach?" He leads me through the wrought iron gates.

"Neither one of us drinks."

"Sparkling apple cider."

"I don't like sparkling apple cider."

"What if I'm licking it off your tits?"

"Then you're the one drinking it."

He laughs and squeezes my hand.

The shining sun casts a glow over the vivid green grass. The world is alive today. Except for the mild chill in the air, there are no signs of winter here. The sky is bright blue and free of clouds. The air is somewhere between crisp and warm.

I follow Miles to his uncle's grave. Damon Webb. Father. Uncle. Friend.

Miles's eyes fix on mine. "You remember what I said about Damon?"

"How he'd sit you down and tell you to stop running from your feelings?"

"Yeah. I always have a lot of time to think when we're on the road. That's how it started, me taking drugs. I needed a way to shut out my thoughts." He runs his fingers through my hair.

"I know." I lean into his touch. "Everyone runs sometimes."

"You don't. You never did."

"Yes, I did. Just I used school instead of drugs." I stare into his clear blue eyes. I don't want to run from my feelings either. I'm scared of the constant separation, but I love Miles more than anything. I want forever with him.

I want him to see the evidence of our forever.

Here goes nothing. I press my lips together. "I have to show you something."

"Let me go first." He presses his palm into my lower back. "Okay?"

I nod.

"This tour, it felt like we were traveling twenty hours a day. I had a lot of time to myself. Mostly, I thought about you. About us having a life together. About how much brighter my life is than it was before I met you. Used to be the only thing that soothed me was writing a song or stepping on stage. But you..." He stares back at me. "I know I promised to wait until you finished your first year of med school, but I have to do this now. I have to do it here." Miles lowers himself onto his knee.

He... he's really doing this.

He pulls a ring box from his jeans and flips it open. "Megara Smart, will you marry me?"

Chapter Two

Miles

Meg's brown eyes go wide. Her fingers go to her soft, pink lips. She stares at me like she's in shock.

Usually, I know how to work an audience, but right now, I'm too nervous to have a clue. The sound of my heartbeat is drowning out my thoughts.

Is that oh my God, yes? or oh hell, no? I know she loves me, but she's young. School comes first. It should. I love how ambitious she is.

None of that makes waiting easier. I've done a lot in my life, had just about everything a guy could want. Nothing—not platinum albums, or Grammies, or ten thousand fans screaming my name—compares to Meg.

Her eyes soften. Surprise fades to joy. Her lip corners turn upward. "You're asking in